Time and Trial
by Mukaebi
Summary: Rating just to be safe. Anyway, the future Middle Earth has fallen into ruin and war and the people have put their faith in the long dead Fellowship, who are worshipped as gods. But what if a young woman falls into the past?
1. Chapter 1

I just want to say that I don't own Lord of the Rings even though I wish I did. However, I do own the concept of the Torch Riders and the character Eurayle, who will be introduced next chapter.  
  
Introductions & A Brief History Of The Former Middle Earth  
  
The legends of the Great Era of Fellowship of the Ring seemed to be nothing more then stories told by the elders. It was hopeless though. For countless generations, as more and more children were born and bred in the flames of war and death, the stories of Aragorn, Mortal god of War and Judgment, and of Arwen, goddess of Hope further withered away.  
With the tales and survivors of the Great War, died the languages and traditions. No longer was the language of Immortals spoken. No longer did Dwarves hold dominion of the worlds beneath the crust of the earth. Everything, traditions, farmlands, the times of peace, had completely fallen to ruin. None more noticeable than what is now Melpomene Forest. The trees were dead but still they spoke of generations long since past. Shimmering white bark looked silvery under the moonlight. The soil beneath was dry and blew up in clouds with each step. Gnarled branches reached towards the night sky, as if begging the gods for a salvation that wouldn't come. It was a tragic sight. The very thought of the skeletal forest made it hard to believe that this was the very place where the priests and priestess' believed that Lorien, the fabled kingdom of Galadriel, Mother of the gods and goddesses, once existed. Melpomene Forest, former land of the Gods? Hah, ridiculous!  
No one really knew how long the war had lasted, nor what had originally started it. However, it was said that after Aragorn and Arwen mortally passed away to return to the land of the Gods, the peace between the countries of the place once known as Middle Earth had begun to disintegrate. Whatever the cause of the war, most didn't know, but because of it, many new and shadowed groups of men and women had been formed. But along with the dark came the light of the Royal Council, the bonding of the four countries of the north, founded by the country of Bittore, and its crown city of Alcippe, leaders of the war against Trista, the desert nations of Jaleh and Rajni, and the sea faring warriors of Tamary.  
As of the factions left to dwell in secrecy, among these, are the ones bound to the duty of finding, piling, and burning the bodies of the fallen. Depending on which country you entered, they would be called by different names, however, when spoken in Origin Voice, the most blunt and literal version of speech, they are called Torch Riders.  
Well versed in the strategies, formalities, and weaponry of war, they were the ones sent by their respected kingdoms to the battlefields. Do not look upon them in pity or disgust, for in all kingdoms, Fire Riders are chosen by the rulers or councils. They are not given a choice. And though burning the bodies of the dead may seem cruel and disrespectful, this group of exiles was formed out of necessity.  
After five generations of battle, the idea of burial was becoming pointless and had not been proven practical on many occasions. The war ravaged lands' soil had turned to dust, and when the winds came, the piles of armor would be unearthed, only to be greedily stolen by men and the bones left to be carried away by animals.  
And so the position of the Torch Riders was established. However, not just anyone was chosen. Only those who had seen death and experienced the mournful anguish on such a high scale as to not be affected by it any longer were taken. In Bittore, sadly, it is a rarity for a complete family to be living together. Many men die on the battlefields and with hearts full of sorrow, women commit suicide, leaving their distraught and lonely children alone to be drafted in the Torch Riders. Taught to them are the proper ways in which to address and pile the dead, the spells, prayers, poems, and songs for the burnings, and basic reading, writing, and mathematics. With such lessons, come strict rules. They are harsh and numerous. So many exist that it would be pointless for me to even try to name them all. However, I'm sure that once our story begins, some of these shall become known. And no, unfortunately, there are very few loop holes and exceptions to these laws.  
Ironically, Riders are highly regarded, and are often in the favor of the royal families and councils. For all of the horrible work that is forced upon them, this comes as no surprise. As such, it is international law not to kill them. To murder a Rider is taboo and those responsible are severely punished. After all, Riders are taught not to fight back, even when assaulted.  
Perhaps now you are wondering how one would go about identifying them. The tell tale sign is that of the marks on their faces. If one were foolish enough to unknowingly attack one and pull back the hoods of their countries uniforms, the black, tear shaped tattoos beneath both eyes would immediately bring a stop to the interference. With all Riders, the ordeal of getting the tattoo is done as soon as they come of age. In the case of Bittore, this is thirteen. Also, all are required to wear the crest of their respected kingdoms as the clasp for their cloaks.  
Galadriel, divine mother of the gods, surely, if you are looking down upon this shell of former Middle Earth, you are weeping. Pray, fair lady, for no longer is this place Middle Earth. The forge of war and terror has twisted it, creating it anew, as Orin.  
  
Author's note: Sorry if this seemed boring to you. Review though okay? By the way, for all of you confused, with the death of the Fellowship, died the names of the different realms, this will be explained later. Eurayle, by the way, is Greek as well. The name means, "wanders far". This is obviously a fitting name for a Rider. 


	2. Chapter 2

******_Hey there, okay this is the chapter where I intend to get the ball rolling okay? Sorry for the wait! Review on the way out please! By the way, I'm really sorry if my character is a Mary-Sue!_**         

Siv, Royal City of Odiane 

A horses' hooves sunk deep into the four inches of snow that had fallen the night before. Gusts of wind ripped through the leafless trees and clouds. Up above, tiny ice crystals fluttered on there way down to the frozen over land. Grey clouds hung like a blanket over the sky. The rolling hills seemed to melt into each other, the snow making it difficult to tell where one hill ended and another began. 

                Stone walls rose up, a shield against attack. Although, attack during the winter months was uncommon so it gave the people plenty of time to rebuild and recover. The weather made it difficult to move armies and supplies. The city of Siv was difficult to get to in the first place, since it was pretty much like an island of sorts, usually cut off from the world. Anyone who managed to get there usually ended up beside the walls by accident. The roads to reach there weren't marked, at least not clearly, and most of the paths were overgrown. Traveling to different cities wasn't at all recommended now anyway, as of late. 

                Tall, plank wood doors were all that stood between the weary rider and the best nights sleep, she had seen in weeks. She could just imagine the soft, feather pillows, down comforters, flannel sheets, and blankets, candles lighting the way through the halls, and the glass of the windows would be cold to the touch, yet still able to hold out the northern winds. 

                Pulling down the forest green hood of her tattered cloak, hazel eyes sharp and alert beneath the shadow of the fabric, she looked up stoically at the gate way. It was both beautiful and practical. Although, the practicality of it didn't matter too much, a feeling of safety and protection resonated from the very stones and mortar in the walls. With its beauty, it was hard to imagine the place being attacked. Then again, she had seen it after an attack, the beautiful walls and gateway torn down and broken. Shards of stone and wood piercing the bodies of the guards and those who couldn't evacuate fast enough. It had taken her hours to burn all of them. 

                The roof of the castle was just barely visible. Actually, one really couldn't call it a castle; it was more like a villa, meant to be more of defensive building then one to show status and power. Still, it was unrivaled by any of the others, and would've put the Roman villas to shame. More then one thousand rooms, halls of shimmering polished granite, candles lighting the halls, and tapestries depicting the great victories and losses of the people of Odiane. The thought warmed her heart somewhat. 

                Swinging her leg over the brown leather saddle, her riding boots piercing through the thin layer of ice that covered the snow, she walked up to the gate, and slammed her fist against it. A tiny door, perfectly camouflaged in the planking, swung open, revealing blue eyes, narrowed into a glare. 

                "Who are you, woman? What business have you in Siv?" the gruff voice asked. "There are rumors of spies wandering this area.no one is allowed through these gates without reason!"

                "I am a Torch Rider of Bittore. My business here in Siv is none of your concern," she said bluntly. "Send a runner to your king, Leidolf, and tell him of my arrival. Surely, he will vouch for me,"

                "How can I trust that you are who you claim to be? Show me the facial markings of the true Riders,"

                Turning her head to the side, Eurayle brushed back the strands of hair and cloth that framed her face. A pair long black tattoos, shaped as teardrops, made its way down from the corner of her eye to the middle of her cheek. Taking a small step to the left, her cheek brushing gently against the frigid wood, she waited patiently for the guard to finish inspecting the mark, making sure that it wasn't just face paint. Annoying, yes, but since word of wandering armies, attacking at will and led by enemy spies had reached the ears of the Kings, it was to be expected. However, Siv by far took more caution. 

                After nearly thirty minutes of questions, exchanges of brisk dialog, and inspections, the guard finally allowed her inside. 

                It came as no surprise that the streets inside were crowded with people. The love of trade and foreign things made it a most interesting place for shopping. Also, this sense of intrigue ensured that most of the population was well educated on the cultures and traditions of other lands. They say that the best way to defeat your enemy is to better know your enemy. One would think this to be true, since Odiane had launched some of the most successful raids, ambushes, and invasions that Orin had ever seen. 

                No sooner had she and her horse stepped into the road, the people parted, allowing her to go forward, treating her like royalty. People stared, children whispered among themselves and their parents in awe, asking about the strange woman who had just entered their city. Soldiers gulped, wondering why the bringer of death incarnate had come. 

                She could hear them, muttering cruel sneers and taunts, all of them directed at her. However, after years of going through it, she had learned to drown it out. After all, it wasn't exactly a job that most people dreamed of. Some may find the traveling part of it exciting and adventurous but once they got into the long and tiresome job of sorting through the corpses of soldiers and then burning them, most didn't appear at all pleased by the idea. 

                Already the pillared entryway to Leidolf's home was coming into view. The windows glimmered like rubies from the sun that had begun to set. Apparently, she had been standing out there for the inspection a lot longer then she had originally thought. Armed guards bowed down in greeting to her as she dismounted. As a stable hand lead her ebony colored horse away, two more stepped alongside her as escorts into the castle. 

                It was just as she imagined, even more impressive actually. Suddenly, she began to feel a little bit self-conscious around the members of the royal court as they occasionally walked by. Compared to them, she thought herself to look like nothing more then some whore the men had picked up off the street. She pulled her hood down further, so that only her tattoos remained visible. 

                The doors to the great hall, a living room of sorts, swung open. Lying about were Leidolf's two young daughters and older son. Seated with the captains of his armies was Leidolf, numerous maps, five rolled up to the side, and three more detailed ones set out in front of him as he carefully planned his countries next attack. 

                Leidolf, I suppose, wasn't necessarily old, but still, he had gone passed his prime years ago and already his son, Geirolf, was surrounded by books on world history and war strategy. Gossip had even begun to spread that he was looking for a bride. He would soon take the throne, and though he wasn't one of the most attractive of men, many knew him as a fantastic warrior, who never returned without boasting rights as to how many Tristian soldiers he had killed. A famed sword wielder and deadly archer he was, able to fight at whatever distance or in whatever situation that was needed without flaw.  

                "I am pleased that you have come my lady," said the lord, as he dismissed the council. His children looked up at her, their stares intense and confused. They tried to think back to see if they could remember any battles that had recently taken place. There was one, but that was days ago and was miles away from there.

                 "For what purpose have I been brought here? I have yet to receive word of a battle that occurred here," She replied bluntly. Never had she been a patient woman, and numerous times had she been brought over the deserts of Rajni and Jaleh only to learn that they merely wanted her there for reasons other then her usual Torch Rider duties. Most weren't pleasant reasons either. 

                "Yes, I am aware that you have been given no reason. However, I pray that you will accept this one."

                "What do you wish of me?" she asked. Her mind was sifting through all sorts of ghastly chores that this man could give to her. Inwardly, she shuddered. 

                "I have summoned many here with not necessarily a job, more of a request," He said calmly. Standing, his son walked up to her, handing her a horn, the polished bone glistening beneath the light of the candles. Beautifully carved on the rim, were horses, rushing through tall grass plains. She stared fondly at it. The carvings reminded her of all the stories that her mother had once told her about the once proud lands of Rohan. It was hard to believe that those plains had later become Rajni and Jaleh. 

                "Beautiful isn't it? It's sound can be heard for miles. You and you kin may not be able to fight directly, however, do the Council this could turn will you? Sound it if attack is imminent. We shall hear you and come"

                 "I thank you Leidolf," she said. "However, I still don't understand why you would entrust me with such a beautiful thing,"

                "You have the favor of both my son and myself, I trust you will not abuse it, Eurayle"

                **Author's Note: Was that better you guys? Sorry it took me so long to tell you her name. However, character introductions are very important. Next chapter will be better I swear on pain of death. Well, maybe not of pain of death, but something just as good. **

**                By the way, a special thanks to the following people: LalaithoftheBruinen, Serenity_dmn, Rainne, Eregiel Gloswen, Queen Isis, Niori, Queen of the Elven City, and kurleyhawk2 for reviewing the first chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner had been pleasant, a warm bath most welcomed, but still Eurayle was troubled. It was what Leidolf had said-"You have the favor of my son"-that had her worried. Did they not care about the laws of the Riders? It was well known that a woman (or man) of the Riders, no matter how much freedom their rulers allowed, was not permitted to marry. Mothers were held in high regard, and to be away from family unless for war was nearly unthinkable. Since Riders were constantly away till they could no longer perform their duties, marriage and starting a family was far too difficult and in the beginning before the law was passed, led to their deaths. The members of the Council said the law was for the safety of the Riders. 

Now, to sleep beside a rider was no better then a queen betraying her King by sleeping with his brother. And as if fate were pouring salt on her wounds, she knew well that Geirolf wished to be with her. He had told her so the last time she had come to Siv. Needless to say, she had been stunned. After all, they had only known each other for little over three years*. 

                She shook her head, sadly knowing that her dreams of marrying and becoming an ordinary woman were out of her reach. Oh, Why did Eowyn curse her like this? She knew her duties well, but why did Eowyn send longing for male companionship to her heart? It wasn't fair. After all, who could love someone they couldn't be with, and how could she love someone who didn't love her in return? 

                 Hanging her head in shame, she pressed her forehead against the window, the freezing glass a cold comfort. The candles had burned themselves out long ago, leaving her lost in the dark privacy of the bedroom, with nothing but the winter moon, seemingly an orb of glowing ice, as her light source. Snow was still falling, piling up on her windowsill and the wind whistled through the narrow gaps between the panes. Sighing heavily, she silently prayed to Galadriel, in hopes that her mind be cleansed of all such dreams and ideas.

* * *

                Golden sunlight reflected off the snow the next morning. The blanket of clouds from the day before had disappeared and though the difference in temperature was actually slight, but for some reason it seemed so much warmer. However, this didn't ensure that it was a good day for travel on horseback. The snow was deep, they wouldn't be able to get anywhere and word was that Tamary's armies were moving to attack the western borders of Bittore. 

                Since this could be a problem, and Leidolf had a nearly famous amount of common sense, he had presented her with snowshoes and a staff. Unfortunately, this meant leaving her horse behind. Eurayle had become quite attached to her traveling companion. In its place, the King offered her a large black dog, meant to be a guard of sorts. The trek through the Hrimgicel Mountains had been dangerous before the war started, but now, since the creatures had evolved and changed, an escort, whether it is man or beast was vital to survival. 

            Strapped tightly around her waist was a dagger. Beautifully crafted and with runes etched down the middle, as a written prayer to Samwise, god of protection and travel. The silvery metal glistened so brightly, it was almost blinding. 

                "My lord," Eurayle began sternly (and slightly confused, if I may add), "you know the law, we are not allowed to carry weapons."

                "Aye, but milady," Leidolf said looking at her concerned. "Outrunning an assailant without a horse would be far too difficult in the Hrimgicel. To travel without weaponry, is no better then knowingly walking unarmed into Trista. To do such a thing is a fool's errand"

                 "Are you that foolish?" she said angrily. "I could be executed for carrying such a thing! Is that what you wish?"

                "No. I wish for you to live; that is why I give you weaponry. If you are questioned, simply tell that I have given you permission to carry a weapon such as this. Besides, it is but a small blade, surely they would not mind it."

                As much as she hated to admit it, Eurayle had to agree with him. Besides, even they would believe that she carried it for hunting purposes. And like Leidolf said, aside from defending one's self, it would do very little to no good on the battlefield. 

                There was a nudge at her leg and she looked down a little surprised at the dog. Its dark eyes were seemingly pleading her to finish whatever it was she doing so that they could leave. The look of impatience was oddly similar to the one a mother would wear when scolding a fussing child. Just what she needed, an argumentative companion that would probably be the cause of her loss of sanity by the time they reached the mountains. 

                Leidolf chuckled and said, "I see that Gyda wishes for you to hurry onto your journey. Her judgment, I suppose is sound. We shall leave you to go now. I only ask that you return to us again one day. May the Great Ones bless you."

* * *

                Apparently merely asking for blessings was not near enough. Oh, Eurayle really should've gone to pray at the shrine that morning. For the past three days, it seemed as if someone were out to get her. The constant winds, snow fall, and chilling temperatures made travel slow and agonizing. Day after day, she and Gyda trudged onward, hands, feet and paws nearly frozen when they stopped to make camp. Fire was a luxury that hadn't had the chance to enjoy in days. 

                Late that morning, the pair had managed to climb through the first of the foothills. The roads weren't that easy to spot so they just figured that going in a strait line would work just as well. So even though that wasn't completely true, they had made considerable progress.

                A poor excuse for a fire burned and snapped, the dampness of the quickly melting snow a constant threat to douse their only source of heat. Curled up beside it, Eurayle and Gyda lay desperately trying to get what sleep they could before the sun came up. That was basically how their daily schedual went, get up at sunrise, and keep walking until it was too dark to see. Unfortunately, they would probably have to change once they reached the Hrimgicel Mountains. Attack on  travelers because of the mountain wolves was common, and to die at the jaws of an animal (in Eurayle's opinion) was pathetic.

                The snow shoes, however were useful. Though a little difficult to walk in, it was better then sinking into the snow. Before when she traveled with her horse, it was almost as if she had to swim rather then walk. In a few short hours they would be put to the test, as the mountains now loomed above them. 

**Author's Note****: Alright people, this officially, is the end of the prologue.  See you next chapter and remember to review on the way out.  In case you happened to notice the star, that's because what has happened between to Eurayle and Geirolf will be covered when I go ahead and write a prequel to this. Yes I know I should've done that already, but this story line was the first one I've come with okay? Review please!**


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